


something to return to

by chromyrose



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Ancestor and Descendant, Ancestors, Dream Bubble, Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-01
Updated: 2012-03-01
Packaged: 2017-10-31 22:34:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/349047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chromyrose/pseuds/chromyrose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Nepeta awakes in an unfamiliar place, with no recollection of how she got there, things seem bleak and frightening. But then she meets the Disciple, and things change.</p>
            </blockquote>





	something to return to

**Author's Note:**

> This is only my second fic and my first time with either of these characters, but I am actually really proud of the result. Homestuck, of course, belongs to Andrew Hussie and not to myself. Please enjoy!

It took Nepeta a moment to adjust to her surroundings; she did not remember falling asleep outside of her cave hive deep in the forest. She must have, though, because that was where she was when she sluggishly awoke. It was strange, because Pounce never let her sleep outside the cave, where it was cold and she was unprotected from the wild prey that could attack when she had her guard down. At the very least, he would be within sight, if not curled around her protectively like a good lusus. But Nepeta scanned the trees and he was nowhere in sight; so, in fact, were the wingbeasts and nutbeasts that usually lived in the woods around her humble cave.

When she tried to move, a quick ache rushed through her body; Nepeta realized she must have passed out, perhaps in a fight with a really big prey. That would explain why she couldn’t remember falling asleep, except if she had been hurt there was no way Pounce would have left her alone. Panic seized her, and she willed her screaming muscles to move, scampering into her cave to seek out her lusus. 

There was a dim light coming from within the deepest part of the cave, where her recuperacoon lay, and some of the panic in her bloodpusher was quelled. Pounce was probably waiting inside for her, preparing ablutions for her to ease her pains. Gripping the cave wall for support, Nepeta slowly limped in, wondering what kind of giant beast she had been trying to tame, that she was so hurt. 

Another chill ran down Nepeta’s spine when she was able to see that no, it was not Pounce who was awaiting her deep in the cave; it was an adult troll. Or, at least, what Nepeta imagined an adult troll would look like. Nepeta was seeing her (him?) from behind, could clearly see the massive horns that erupted from thick, gnarly black hair, a deep orange color, completely without the gradiant of a young troll’s horns. Nepeta’s instinct told her to run, because she was in no condition to fight, but she couldn’t move from her spot. 

The adult troll turned around, and when she saw Nepeta a smile grew on her face. Nepeta was surprised that it wasn’t predatorial, but she knew better than to let her guard down. She tried to make herself look strong, removing herself from the wall and attempting to puff out her chest. But she wobbled, and surprised herself by not hitting the floor, but something soft instead.

Nepeta opened her eyes and looked up; the something soft was actually the adult troll’s protective muscular sacs, which were impressively large. A shiver ran down her spine when she realized this troll could probably flay her in moments, and make a coat out of Nepeta’s skin at that. And in her present state she was a picture of weakness, too. 

The adult wrapped her arms around Nepeta, and then lifted her up; Nepeta expected to be dropped, but instead she was nestled down by the fire, an old coat thrown over her. 

“Where’s Pounce?” she asked once she was able to speak. The troll looked confused, so Nepeta added, “My lusus. What did you do to him?” 

The troll sighed, the furrow never leaving her brow. “Young troll, have you any idea where you are?” 

“In my hive,” Nepeta answered, but in the proper light she could see this wasn’t her hive; where she once had a shipping wall, there were now Alternian letters, printed in her shade of blood. She shivered again, and looked up at the adult. 

“No, young one, this would be my cave. But we are in a dream bubble, so I suppose this cave actually doesn’t belong to either of us.”

Now Nepeta was frowing. “Dream bubble?”

“…Do you remember how it is you found yourself here, young one?”

The troll looked worried now, and in the light of the fire Nepeta could see she looked a lot like her; their blood color was the same, evidenced by the color smeared on the walls, and their horns had the same general shape. But the true resemblance was in the features of her face; the big cattish eyes, the wide nose, the full black lips that looked worn from the prominent fangs. 

“No… Am I supposed to?”

The troll woman sighed, “I doubt there are rules to this place, but it would be much easier for me if you did. I need to find a way to remind you.” She paused and gave Nepeta a once-over. “Look down at your claws, young one. And…”

The sentence died out, but the troll still looked worried, so Nepeta looked down at her hands with trepidation stirring in her gut. 

Purple blood. Images and sensations suddenly bombarded Nepeta’s thinkpan; Equius’ corpse lying in a pool of his blood, his face forever etched in an uneasy smile; Gamzee looming over her and the feel of his cold skin as her claws dug into his face; the overwhelming need for revenge, stronger than that of even protection, oh Equius; the final honking nose she heard before she could feel her skull being bashed in, feel the blood oozing from all her orifices. 

A strangled sob brought her back into the present, and she was suddenly overwhelmed by the pain in her thinkpan, which her hands (covered in blood of three shades, how hadn’t she noticed it) grabbed for and squeezed as the sobs kept coming. 

Nepeta roared like a fallen lion, so loud it created a buzzing in her ears, removing her from everything, even the rawness forming in her throat as she raged. But the rawness was making itself known, and her screams of agony were falling quieter and quieter until the outside world was finally able to pierce in. 

There was a soft crooning in her ears, and her claws had been forced away from her hair. Larger hands were smoothing against her scalp, rubbing the base of her horns the way her lusus’ had in another life. Because Nepeta Leijon was no longer alive, she was dead. Dead like Equius was dead, Dead because she _failed_ to keep herself and Equius alive.

“Shhhh,” the adult troll whispered to her softly, soothingly, before she continued her song. Nepeta found herself clinging to the adult troll, and though she couldn’t understand the heavy ancient tongue, the troll’s words were soothing, as was her rough, imperfect, but warm voice. 

When the troll’s song was finished, and the sound of the flames flickering was all that was left to be heard, Nepeta inhaled deeply.

“What was that song?”

“It’s a song that was written a long time ago, based on the teachings of the greatest troll who ever lived. Some know him as the Signless, others as the Sufferer. Have you ever heard of him?”

The troll was looking down at Nepeta in her lap with genuine curiosity. Nepeta almost felt disappointed to tell her that she hadn’t, but she was too drained from what had just transpired.

“I should not be surprised. Her Imperious Condescension would not want anyone getting ideas. The Signless was a troll like any other, but because he was born with candy-red blood, a color that was not on the hemospectrum, he was not given a lusus or sign. He was raised by a jade-blood, one of the caretakers of the Mother Grub, who found him as a wriggler and knew she had to protect him.

Life was hard for them. As he grew up, the Signless had dreams of a world wherein the hemospectrum did not matter. He began to preach his ideas about a reformed troll society, where all trolls were equals. He gained a few supporters, and many enemies.”

Nepeta was engrossed in the story, so much that she hadn’t noticed the tears welling in the other troll’s eyes. The woman blinked and they fell, and then she smiled and reached into her clothes, pulling a necklace out. 

“That’s my friend’s symbol.” Nepeta said suddenly, and there was a whole new pain in her chest when she remembered Karkat. She never got to tell him how she felt, never got to see him smile, not once…

“Is that so? Tell me, what is your friend’s blood color?”

“I’m not sure,” Nepeta realized. “He never told anybody…”

“Signless,” the older troll breathed, and a smile took over her face as she hugged Nepeta even closer.

“I think it is time I told you who I am, young one. I am known as the Disciple, the most faithful of the Signless’ followers, and I am your Ancestor.”

“Ancestor?” Nepeta repeated, taking it in. She had really given any thought to the theory of ancestors, one way or another, but now she was grateful that it was real. The Disciple’s hug felt as soothing as Pounce’s had; even more so, because she could actually fit in her lap. 

“Yes,” the Disciple said softly. “What is your name, young one?”

“Nepeta.”

“Very pretty.”

Nepeta’s cheeks warmed, as much from the relaxation after that much exhaustion, as from the compliment the adult trol- her Ancestor, gave her. She curled further against her, her cheek resting on the Disciple’s muscle sac. 

“So that was a true story? About the Signless?”

“Absolutely. One-hundred percent so, in fact.”

“And you knew him?”

Nepeta watched as emotions flickered across the Disciple’s face. Her expression had been fervent, passionate, but it melted into something soft, malleable looking, and Nepeta wondered if the new shininess in her eyes was simply a trick of the fire.

“He was my fated one,” the Disciple murmured, busying her fingers in Nepeta’s hair again. “He and I… what we had. It was greater in scope than any one of the quadrants. We could be, and we were, each others moirails, kismesis, matesprits… we could never define ourselves. Do you think you understand?”

Nepeta nodded, biting at her lip a little. She hadn’t known any trolls who spoke so emotionally, whose voices were heavy and dripping with feeling the way the Disciple spoke when she talked of Signless. It made her jealous, but it also made her blood pusher feel like it was swelling to a bigger size than her chest had room for. She lifted her arm, slowly because it still ached dully, and brushed the tear off the Disciple’s cheek. The Disciple seemed surprised, and she giggled at herself when she became aware she was crying.

“I keep a shipping wall in my cave,” Nepeta confessed softly. “All my furriends are so close, they almost all fit into quadrants with each other.”

She looked up at the Disciple, who was looking down at her patiently. In a hushed tone, Nepeta added, “I even shipped myself, too, in the flushed quadrant, but… I don’t think he liked me.”

The Disciple ‘tsk’ed, and pressed a long finger to Nepeta’s lips.

“I am sure there’s a wall here somewhere I haven’t covered yet. How about you show me your work?”

She eased Nepeta off her lap, and then stood up to her full length, which was honestly not much longer than Nepeta’s. The Disciple then leaned in, and held her hand out to her descendant.

Nepeta beamed and took it, coming to the conclusion that maybe, yes, it was hard being dead without Karkat or Equius or any of her friends, but maybe it wouldn’t be the worst thing.


End file.
